Chapter Text
Please Join Us For A Celebration Of Life
In Loving Memory Of
Rosinante “Corazón” Donquixote
We will be gathering to share our favorite stories and memories. Flowers, photos, and sentimental items welcome. Drinks and light snacks will be served.
When Law first received the invitation in the mail, he assumed it was a hoax sent by someone who knew about his past—someone who wanted to hurt him with it. Yet when he searched up his former teacher online, the first result was an obituary.
Rosinante Donquixote, dead at forty-one.
Law pushed through his growing shock and kept reading, skipping past the platitudes in search of more concrete information. There was no mention of how he’d died, only a few lines about his life and the many jobs he’d held, and a few more about his family. It seemed he’d never really settled, hopping from one career to another every few years. Law wasn’t surprised. If Cora was one thing, it was noncommittal.
“I’m sorry, Law. I never meant for it to end like this,” Cora had said on that last, terrible day. Law could still picture so clearly the stern set of his mouth, the mournful cast of his eyes, as he shattered Law’s world in the span of a few words.
More memories flooded in, unbidden and unwanted. Waking up in Cora’s bed. Cora’s cock pushing inside him. Cora’s lips on his cheek, murmurs in his hair, fingertips ghosting up his spine. Lying warm in Cora’s arms as they watched a movie. Cora whispering “I’m proud of you.” Stolen moments after school. Rides home in secret. And before any of that, before everything, the look on Cora’s face as he confronted Law about the essay that had started it all.
Grief settled in his stomach like a stone. Law shouldn’t have cared that Cora was gone. It had been eight long years since Law had last seen him, and they had parted under the worst of circumstances. But Law had loved him once, and that love had branded itself on his heart, its edges rough and sinewy, twinging with every heartbeat.
Gritting his teeth, Law forced himself to finish reading the obituary. One line near the end caught his eye.
Rosinante is survived by his elder brother, Doflamingo.
Doflamingo. Of course. He must have sent the invitation. One last twist of the knife, just in case the wound had closed. Doffy should have known better than anyone that it hadn’t. How could it, when Law still had so many questions?
For years, he’d tried to convince himself that he didn’t need to know what really happened in the days leading up to their breakup. Cora dying didn’t change that, he decided, crumpling up the invitation and tossing it in the trash. Yet as he walked away, he hesitated.
Doffy was there when they broke up. With Cora dead, Doffy was the only person left on the planet who might know what he was really thinking that day. All Law wanted was to move on. Maybe if he got some answers, he finally could.
Law fished the invitation out of the trash and gave it another look.
*
Three days and one red-eye flight saw Law walking up the long and winding path to the Donquixote mansion. The massive front gate had been left open in anticipation of guests. The driveway was full of cars, and the lawn besides; late as he was, Law had to park out on the street.
Despite the years that had elapsed since Law had last set foot on the stone pathway leading up to the door, the house looked largely the same. It was done in the Gothic Revival style, with pointy gables, towering arches, and weathered battens. The lawn was littered with the bird-shaped topiaries Doffy loved so much, freshly manicured in anticipation of the gathering. The only real change was the addition of a gaudy pink trim.
Law’s heart squeezed as his gaze landed on the stoop. It was all too easy to picture Cora’s tall frame filling the doorway, towering over him, shutting him out.
I’m sorry, Law…
“Let’s get this over with,” Law muttered, heading up the steps to the door. He carried a bouquet of lilies in one hand and a soft bundle wrapped in brown paper in the other.
A doorman stood in the entryway. That was different. Cora never liked having staff.
“Welcome, sir. Right this way,” the man said, escorting Law inside. “You’ll find the young master and his guests in the parlor. Through the archway, second door on the left.”
“Thanks,” Law said, as if every detail of this house hadn’t featured prominently in his nightmares.
The doorman relieved him of his flowers, but as he reached for the paper bundle, Law shoved it in his pocket. A flicker of annoyance crossed the doorman’s face before he whisked the bouquet down the hall, and then Law was alone.
The grand foyer, like the rest of the house, was done up in rich warm wood with gold accents. A crystal chandelier glittered high overhead, casting slivers of light across the fine art pieces hanging on the walls. The tall arch leading to the main hallway was flanked on either side by a pair of broad, curved staircases featuring ornately carved bannisters. Law’s stomach twisted into knots as he pictured himself racing up the stairs, Cora close on his heels, bound for the bedroom. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.
Law headed down the hall. Voices emanated from the parlor, growing louder as he approached. Each step felt heavier than the last. He imagined the moment he darkened that doorway, how every pair of eyes in the room would turn on him, and he’d think, Do they know? Do they know? Do they know?
His chest tightened. His palms began to sweat. He leaned against the wall just shy of the archway, closing his eyes and taking deep, measured breaths to calm himself.
For years after the relationship had ended, the prospect of discovery had tormented him. He’d spent long hours searching the web, looking for any sign of Cora’s name in the headlines or on a list. Law had never found anything, yet the fear remained.
His phone buzzed, startling him. He fished it out of his pocket with trembling fingers. His friends from med school were blowing up their group chat.
Bepo: Today’s the big day, right? Let us know if you need anything
Shachi: We’re here for you bro
Pen: I’d offer to kick his ass for you, but I guess it’s too late for that…
Shachi: Gottem
Bepo: Guys!!!
Law snorted.
Law: Lol
All three of them started typing at the same time. Law shook his head and put his phone away. They could fight it out amongst themselves. Feeling a little better, he entered the parlor.
No one looked. Their eyes were glued to the speaker at the podium, a woman with long black hair and painted red lips whom he recognized immediately. It hadn’t crossed his mind that Baby might attend, but it should have. She, too, was a former student of Cora’s. They had been close, though not the way Cora and Law were. Law took a seat in the back and watched as she recited a prepared speech from a sheet of printer paper, enunciating each word.
“Mr. Donquixote wasn’t afraid of anything—not the judgment of his students, nor of connecting with them. He was quick to remind us of our duty to ourselves. What could we be if we put our minds to it? What could only we do to make the world a better place? It was never a question of what we could achieve, but rather what path we would need to take to get there.”
As her gaze landed on Law, her eyes widened, and she stumbled briefly over her words.
"In—ahem—In us he saw a world of possibility, and he made sure we knew it. He inspired us to ask deeper questions about ourselves and to believe in our own potential. I think that’s why he left such a powerful mark on so many of his students despite teaching for such a short time.”
A few people, undoubtedly other former students, made approving noises. Law sank down lower in his seat.
“I think I speak for all of us when I say Mr. Donquixote will truly be missed.” Baby’s eyes were glassy as she attempted to smile. “Thank you.”
There was scattered applause. Baby returned to her seat on the other side of the room, her eyes tracking Law all the while.
But any other thoughts left his mind when someone else approached the podium. Doflamingo was by far the tallest man in the room, even taller than his brother had been. He was clad in a baby pink suit and his perennial pink-tinted glasses. Time had not been kind to his hairline, which had receded considerably in the years since Law had seen him last. But despite the circumstances, his signature smile was wider than ever.
“Thank you all for coming. I’d like to express my deepest gratitude for your kind words. I’m sure if Corazón were here, he would be embarrassed to death by them.”
A few people chuckled uneasily.
Law had never known Doffy to be short on words, but for a moment, he was quiet. He addressed the room with his eyes first, his gaze sweeping through the crowd before landing on Law. Law didn’t look away.
“The heart is a funny thing,” Doffy said at last. “In all things, my brother led with his. It’s where he got his nickname: Corazón. It was I who gave it to him.”
Law leaned forward a little. He had heard many stories concerning the exploits of the brothers Donquixote, but this was not one of them.
“We were vacationing in Mallorca with our parents—God rest their souls—when young Corazón came upon a sickly stray kitten living in the alley behind our hotel. It was a pitiful thing: mangy, crusty-eyed, mewling weakly as he cradled it to his chest. Fearing disease, I insisted he leave it to its fate. But Corazón could not be persuaded. He secreted it back to our bungalow in a cardboard box, returning frequently to feed and care for it.
“His odd behavior did not escape our parents’ notice for long. Fearing the worst, Corazón pleaded his case. I knew it wasn’t necessary. You see, our parents, too, were bleeding hearts. They extended our stay and paid for its veterinary care until Corazón could see with his own eyes that it had been restored to health. When it was finally time to return home to Madrid, our father invited him to adopt the little creature and take it home. But Corazón refused.
“‘What about his family?’ Corazón had said. ‘What about his friends?’ He felt it was cruel to uproot its life in service of his own whims. And perhaps he was right. Still, when we flew home, he wept bitterly for the loss of it. His endless moping annoyed me. I couldn’t understand why he had brought such misery upon himself when he could have so easily avoided it. But that was his way: he gave of himself freely, unconcerned with protecting his own feelings. That was why I dubbed him Corazón—or Corazoncito, as our parents took to calling him. You can imagine why they eventually had to drop the diminutive.”
A few people chuckled.
“It seems fitting, then, that in the end, it was his heart that killed him,” Doffy continued, and the mood in the room grew somber. “The doctors said he suffered from an enlarged heart, in so many words. Funny, isn’t it? I always teased him about his big heart, but I never knew it was literal.
“My brother showed no symptoms up until the day of the heart attack that killed him. When I received the news, I was incredulous. I wondered, ‘How can this be? That my brother, so young and full of life, is dead?’ In his case, it was genetic. He was dealt a bad hand. From the moment he was born, there was a timer ticking down to zero inside him. No one could have known just how soon it would run out.”
Law’s breath hitched in his throat. It was impossible not to imagine that with each time Cora’s heart raced when they were together, Cora’s heart grew a little larger, a little weaker. That every time they cuddled or kissed or fucked, he grew a little bit closer to death.
“Corazón lived as if he knew when he was going to die, forever rushing in headfirst, giving all of himself to whatever he put his mind to. He specialized in reinventing himself. He was always trying something new, always setting his sights on one ambition or another. Most of you know that he was a teacher, but you may not know that he also worked as a barista, a dog walker, a gardener, and an entertainer on a cruise ship. When I asked him about it, he would say that he was ‘still looking.’ Whether he found what he was looking for, we’ll never know. I sincerely hope he did.”
Law filled the brief silence that followed with his guilt. Did Doffy know what he did: that Cora had found his purpose in teaching, and that he’d thrown it all away because of Law?
“Truly, on behalf of my brother and the Donquixote family, thank you all for being here. In particular, I’d like to acknowledge a late arrival. Law, would you care to say a few words?”
Law stiffened as every eye in the room fixed squarely on him.
“He was a bastard,” Law said.
Doffy smiled even as the vein in his forehead grew more prominent. “He was a complicated man who left behind a complicated legacy. I thank you all for gathering here today to celebrate it nonetheless. In a moment, you will be invited into the dining room. Dance, dine, drink. Visit the shrine if you wish. Please, enjoy yourselves without reservation. There’s nothing he would have wanted more.”
The audience erupted into applause. Law stayed silent. Doffy headed out into the hallway, and Law rose, attempting to follow him. But the crowd rose with him, blocking his egress as the room devolved into a hundred different conversations.
Law attempted to weave through the crowd, bumping shoulders and murmuring apologies, but the sound of a melodic voice calling his name halted him. He turned just as a cloud of Baby’s floral perfume enveloped him, and she flung her arms around his neck, squeezing tight.
“Law, it’s so good to see you!” Baby exclaimed. She was smiling, but the space between her brows grew pinched as she studied his face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but… what are you doing here?”
Law’s gaze drifted toward the archway through which Doffy had disappeared. “It’s complicated.”
Baby’s eyes followed his. Seeing nothing of note, her attention snapped back to him. “Well, you have as much of a right to be here as anybody. Maybe more. Do you have time to catch up a little?”
Law wanted nothing more than to confront Doffy and get out of there, but he couldn’t bring himself to let her down. Once, she had been a good friend to him, and all he’d offered in return was silence and misery.
“Sure,” he said, following behind her as she found a quiet corner of the room.
“So what have you been up to? You basically vanished into thin air after graduation.”
“School kept me busy.” He hesitated. “Sorry I missed the wedding.”
Baby must have sent him ten separate texts about it, excited at first, then with growing concern as each went unanswered.
“Oh, don’t be. You had a lot going on. I probably would have done the same thing in your position,” Baby said, patting his arm.
They both knew that wasn’t true. Baby was no stranger to heartbreak, but she wasn’t like him. She was quick to pick herself up and move on to greener pastures. Law had never been wired that way. He savored the hurt, wallowed in it, let it consume him and then blamed it for his failures.
“Is Bellamy here?” Law said, casting a quick look around the room.
“God, I hope not. That ended years ago. So did the one after that. But…” She flashed a sparkly diamond ring and her pearly white teeth. “Third time’s the charm, right?”
Law’s brow jumped. “Third time?”
“What can I say? You can’t rush true love!” she said cheerfully, but he could tell she had something else on her mind. She went quiet, making space for the question he was sure to ask.
“So, since you stuck around all these years… how were things? You know, after,” Law said, regretting the words even as he spoke them. He’d told himself over and over that he didn’t need to know. Then again, he was here, wasn’t he?
Baby shrugged. “Fine, I guess. I don’t know much more than you do. You were there when Mr. Donquixote quit teaching. After that, he left town for a while. I’m not sure how long. Last I heard, he was tutoring. College prep type stuff.”
“Tutoring,” Law echoed. His voice sounded far away, like it belonged to someone else.
“It wasn’t like that,” Baby blurted. “At least, I don’t think it was. I don’t know. I feel like it would have gotten around if he’d had other, um, special relationships. I mean, I found out about you guys pretty much immediately.”
“We weren’t great at hiding it,” Law admitted.
“Him especially. He really did wear his heart on his sleeve. So no, I don’t think there were others. You could try asking Doflamingo if you want to be sure—it seems like they were pretty close.”
“If I can get my hands on him,” Law said, not without malice.
Baby’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial pitch. “What happened between you two?”
“We have unfinished business.”
“You wanna talk about it?” Baby said, cautious but hopeful. “I know it’s been a while, but I’m still your friend.”
Law was torn. Baby had already done so much for him, and he’d rewarded her with silence. But even if he had wanted to talk about it, he wouldn’t know where to start. As he searched for a way to let her down easy, a stern-looking butler appeared at the podium, drawing their attention.
“The young master invites you to join him in the dining room for drinks and small plates,” the butler said. With that, he bowed and was gone.
Law gave Baby a half-smile. “Later?”
“Of course,” she said, squeezing his arm and drifting away.
Law headed into the dining room hesitantly. The area around the twenty-person dining table was alive with staff doing a hundred different tasks, some setting out a vast array of appetizers and desserts while others wove through the growing crowd, balancing trays of drinks on their palms. Law plucked a glass of wine from a serving tray as it passed him by.
One wall was taken up by a massive fireplace, while the wall opposite featured a huge open bar. But the real focus of the room was the massive painted portrait of the Donquixote family that hung on the far wall above the table, mother and father with neatly-arranged smiles on their faces, their hands on the shoulders of their progeny. Cora and Doffy were children still, their faces rounded with youth. Law approached the portrait slowly, magnetized to it the way he had been when he first saw it. He took in each familiar detail, from the soft lines of their faces to the rings glittering on their fingers. Sipping his wine, he was struck by the realization that Doffy was the only person in the painting who was still alive.
Law turned away from the painting, intending to search for the man in question, but he found Cora instead. The sight of Cora’s memorial portrait froze him to the spot. It was nestled there at the center of the shrine that had been built in his memory, surrounded by flowers, books, photos, and other offerings. The portrait must have been taken recently because he looked older than Law remembered. The bags beneath his eyes had grown more pronounced, and the laugh lines around his mouth cut deeper into his face. His blond hair was threaded with silver in places. The look in his gray-blue eyes was somber.
I’m sorry, his eyes seemed to say. Do you forgive me?
Law whipped around, panicked, needing to be anywhere other than here, and nearly ran facefirst into a wall of a man. His hair, once a vivid black, had gone white. His beard was longer now, and braided, and the black-rimmed bifocals perched on his nose were new, but Law would have recognized him anywhere. It was Principal Sengoku.
The blood drained from Law’s face. In the years since Law had stopped monitoring local news about the school, had Sengoku learned of what had gone on between Law and the newbie teacher he had taken under his wing? Law braced himself for an accusation as Sengoku took notice of him. What he got instead was a handshake.
“If it isn’t Mr. Trafalgar,” Sengoku said, clasping Law’s hand in an iron grip and shaking it so vigorously that Law thought he might topple over. “How the hell are you?”
Utterly disoriented, Law scrambled for words. “Good—uh—well. I’m well, sir.”
“‘Sir.’ Hah! I see you’ve finally learned some manners. I had a feeling that underneath that rough exterior there was a fine young man simply needing to be set straight, and it seems that I was right.”
Sengoku’s expression was friendly. Jovial, even. It looked strange on him, maybe because the vast majority of Law’s interactions with Sengoku had been immediately before or after serving detention. Could it be that Sengoku really didn’t know?
“You know what they say about flies and honey,” Law said, forcing a smile.
“Indeed. We do our best to impress this upon the youth, but sometimes life is the best teacher,” Sengoku said. “Tell me: Corazón—Mr. Donquixote, rather—would not stop talking about how you were destined for medical school. Is it true? Have you really become a doctor?”
“I’m due to begin my residency next month,” Law said, immediately compartmentalizing the image of Cora bragging about him to his coworkers.
“Excellent! I always knew you could turn things around if you applied yourself.”
Law’s jaw tightened as he wondered where that belief in him was when he really needed it. But before he could say anything unwise, Sengoku pressed on.
“Now, I’m sure you’re busy, what with your ongoing education and all, but I would be delighted if you’d come by the school and speak to the students.”
The thought of returning to that school, those halls, made Law shudder. “I’m not sure I would have anything to say.”
“Nonsense! Just think: ‘D-Student to Doctor.’ A compelling narrative, isn’t it?”
C-Student, actually, Law thought.
“A few guiding words can change the trajectory of a young life,” Sengoku continued. “You could really make a difference.”
Law swallowed hard. Sengoku had no idea how true that really was.
“I’m no good at public speaking,” Law said. “That’s why I became a doctor and not a politician.”
“Very funny. Here, take my card. Let my secretary know when you’re available and we’ll set up a time for you to speak to the student body. I’m sure they’d love to hear from you.”
As Law took the card, his stomach filled with dread. How could he possibly give an honest account of his journey when he owed it all to sleeping with his teacher?
“It’s a shame what happened to Corazón,” Sengoku said wistfully. “He spoke so fondly of you. It’s students like you that keep an old teacher’s heart pumping. Well, not his, I suppose—”
“Thank you, sir,” Law said before Sengoku could say anything more mortifying.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I do believe the petits fours are calling my name. Take care of yourself, Law. And do remember to call. The students could really benefit from your unique perspective.”
“Will do,” Law croaked.
As soon as Sengoku’s back was turned, Law downed the glass of wine, dropped the business card in it, and placed the glass on a passing tray. He had to find Doffy and get out of there. Yet when he finally spotted Doffy tucked away in a lavish armchair in the corner, Law was dismayed to find that he was embroiled in a lively debate with several slick-looking businessmen, undoubtedly there for the sole purpose of rubbing elbows with a Donquixote.
Exhausted and shaken as he was by his encounter with Sengoku, he didn’t know if he had it in him to fight through a wall of businessmen just then. Against his will, his gaze drifted back to the shrine, meeting Cora’s eyes. His fingers found the paper bag in his pocket, feeling along the outline in his contents. Sooner or later, he’d have to pay it a visit. Not yet, though. He was far too sober for that.
Tearing his eyes away from Cora’s, Law headed to the bar to drown himself in it.